Things Left Unsaid
by Riza's Cupcakes
Summary: They don't always need words to communicate, but some are always nice to hear. Written for Royai Day 2015.


If it was strange to hold entire conversations without a single word, often contained in a single glance, Roy didn't particularly care. It was comforting, in a way, to know that he could merely look at Riza, and she at him, and that whatever frenzied pattern of thoughts they couldn't or wouldn't fit into words came across as clear as any voice. Familiarity, he supposed, bred contentment rather than contempt, at least in their case. Simply being around her was enough to put him at ease.

Today was no different. It had become something of a ritual for her to show up at his door for Sunday lunch. The first time, she had explained in her usual no-nonsense tone that she didn't think he was eating enough. She was right, of course. Sundays meant no cafeteria food, and he often felt too lazy to bother with cooking or ordering food. The amount of work that came with his new rank of general was staggering. And so Riza had started showing up like clockwork, refusing to cook for him, but offering to help, even bringing groceries with her when she noticed he was lacking something.

She was still asleep in his bed, tangled in the sheet and thin blanket, wearing only a borrowed shirt from his closet, still mostly unbuttoned. Her hair was recently cut and it was strange not to see it fanned across the pillow. It was strange for her to sleep this long—she was always up before him—but she had already begun to stir. Soft noises came between her parted lips, and moments later, her eyes fluttered open. The early evening light that came through the thin curtains caught in her short hair, making it shine like her eyes did after she had blinked away the last of her nap. A sleepy smile, the rustling of sheets, and the sensation of Riza's body pressing close to his were the usual signal and he pressed a gentle kiss to her mouth, letting his lips linger motionless against hers. Her eyes were closed again, and her face as peaceful as he had ever seen it. He wanted to say how much she loved her, to scream it to the world, but the silence between them was louder than he could shout, and too comfortable to break. She knew already, had always known, and wasn't love a private thing for them? Even if they wore it always—in every glance, every moment together—it was meant for them alone. He kissed her again, to make certain she knew exactly what he wanted to say.

Sunshine, the comforting familiarity of his bedroom, and an almost carefree Riza gave way to a staggering memory, almost knocking the air out of him when all Roy could see was a gray morning and Riza, circles starting to form under her eyes, mouth still open from the words he had known she would say if he hadn't turned around. But he hadn't wanted to hear them, then, hadn't wanted to take the risk that that would be the last time he heard them when the time before had been in her living room, on a day when they had both been as safe as either of them had a right to be.

All at once, he needed to hear them, now that they were as whole as two broken people could ever be. "Riza, I know I should say this more, but I love you." With one finger, Roy gently traced the thin scar on her neck. "You mean so much to me and I'm grateful every day that I didn't lose you then."

Riza looked startled at the broken silence, but the expression gave way to one of affection in an instant. "I love you, too, Roy, but you say it plenty." She swept his hair away from his eyes.

"When's the last time I did? Actually said the words, I mean."

"We don't need words," she said gently. Her hand was stroking his back now. "It's not wise to use them away from home."

"I know," he said. He knew all too well that the time they had at home was limited, and he treasured these lazy Sunday afternoons all the more for it, as well as the evenings he sometimes was able to steal at her apartment.

"And I know that you love me, whether you say it or not." She held him closer, still caressing his back as he buried his face in her neck. He knew he was always safe on duty with her watching his back, but he always felt more secure in her arms. Traces of perfume that hadn't worn off between cooking and napping together still clung to her: the faint scent of lilies stood out above that of the freshly laundered sheets. Whatever they had to pretend to be in their public lives, wherever he was on days when she couldn't come over, the times he spent with her were the only times he ever truly felt at home.

He pressed a soft kiss to her collarbone, and one that seemed to surprise her with its innocence in a place normally reserved for more sensual activities. _Stay_ , this one seemed to say. _I need you here._ Riza shifted, still holding him close to her with one arm while she moved the other to play with his hair.

"I realize our situation isn't ideal," she said, tilting her head enough to kiss the spot her fingers had just mussed, "but I still have you. There's nowhere else I'd rather be than at your side, even if it means we have to keep our private life more private than most."

Nodding, he gave her another kiss, just as sweet as the last. A kiss of understanding. She was as much his wife like this as she would be with his ring on her finger, maybe even more so in how much she supported him. While it couldn't hurt to dream of seeing her walking down a grassy aisle on the lawn of the presidential mansion, he reminded himself that, in a way, what they had was all the more special for the lack of ceremony and signed documents.

The warmth of the sunlight and Riza's embrace had him dozing again and he could tell from her breathing that she was starting to drift off as well. She had already stopped playing with his hair. Stifling a yawn, Roy snuggled closer to her. It was rare for her to fall asleep again rather than insisting they do a bit of cleaning before making dinner—not that he minded, of course. She rarely stayed long after they did the dishes and he was grateful for the chance to fall asleep in her arms again.

The room had grown dark around them while they slept. When he woke this time, Riza's shape was illuminated only by the glow of a street light. He could see her eyes shining in the faint light as she stared up at the ceiling, apparently having rolled onto her back gently enough not to disturb Roy's sleep even with his arms were around her.

He kissed her cheek. The somber expression on her face gave way to a gentle smile. It was later than they'd intended it to be when they woke up, and Roy would have assumed Riza would want to leave but she gave no indication that she was planning to get up. She seemed content to remain in bed beside him, perfectly still.

"If you're going to stay the night, do you want dinner first?" Roy asked.

"Something simple," she said.

They didn't bother changing before heading to the kitchen, but Riza rolled the sleeves of her borrowed shirt up to her elbows. Her hair stuck out at odd angles and her bangs were stuck against her forehead. She looked more rested than Roy had seen her look in ages, and she was beautiful.

She turned her back to him as she fished through his disheveled cupboards for a frying pan, but she said, "You're staring."

"And you're making pancakes for dinner," Roy said as she came up with both a pan and a mixing bowl.

Riza shrugged. "We did just wake up. I'm sure I look as much like a mess as you do."

"You don't," he assured her, not bothering to comment on his slightly wounded pride. When she met his eyes, she seemed surprised by what she saw. "Riza, I don't ever want to wake up to anything else. Maybe we should just—"

"Don't." Her eyes looked tired again, and at least twenty years older. "You already know my answer."

She was right. _I want to, but I can't._ It was the same thing that had stayed his tongue in the past, the same thought that burned in his chest whenever he passed a jewelry shop or saw the little box he had kept tucked in the back of his sock drawer ever since he had first considered asking her to marry him. That was several lifetimes ago now, it seemed.

"Can I ask you something else, then?"

Her lips twitched like she was struggling not to tell him he already had. "Go ahead."

"When Grumman retires, I'll need a body guard at home, too. It might be especially useful if she doesn't have to leave the room even when I'm sleeping. Would you—?"

"Yes, of course I would." She set aside the batter and gave him a gentle kiss. "And if your reputation demands it, I'll even find whatever loophole I need to stay on as your bodyguard after we—after we—" Her voice was tight, as though even saying the word was impossible for her tonight. This comfortable domesticity of making pancakes together after ten p.m. while not properly dressed after a long day of cuddling and napping and other less innocent activities had her at her limits. If she let marriage cross her lips, she might completely break down the rest of their carefully constructed barriers. And if she did, Roy knew that he would help her.

"I understand," he said softly, watching as Riza poured batter into the pan. "I just hope that day comes soon."

"Me, too." She moved from the counter and stood behind Roy while he took over the task of cooking. Her arms wrapped around his stomach and her chin came to rest on his shoulder. He could feel her breath on his ear, could feel her entire body pressed against his. It was more than he deserved. To think that someday, this could be just an average morning instead of a stolen night made him feel like the luckiest man in Amestris. He flipped the pancake and placed his free hand on one of hers. If Riza was worth risking everything for, she was worth waiting a lifetime for.


End file.
